A Page That Will Be Renamed Once I Come Up With The Book's Name
Author's Notes * Although Ishmael Medvedev's character is the son of Tsar Pyotr, he is in fact throughout the book known as "Medvedev"; rarely "Ishmael" Proloque What makes a country a country? That is the principal question. Is it the pride that every individual must carry with themselves and their country, that makes a nation stand high and proud? Or, might it be the bravery and courage shown by its leaders? The fruit bearing a strong nation is merely created from the seed holding great intelligence. Let us not look towards military strength and power, nor our calvary, infantry, or our cannons. Let us, the masterpiece of nature and science, look towards our hearts. Every individual has one, longing for some form of emotion. Hatred, which has lead to the most horrific murders and assassinations in time, along with jealousy and anger. Some may long for the taste of fresh blood and the screams of a human, whilst others may look for happiness and the ultimate serenity. A powerful and strong nation can only be born with one of these intentions. To rule ruthlessly, or to stand gallantly in the sky, controlling a nation with pride, honor, and wisdom. What makes a country a country? That is the principal question. The intellect of humanity. Chapter One Under the command of our greatest Tsar, Pyotr Alexeyevich Ulyanov I, all countries and fellow nations, enemies or not, are to abide by our own commands, laws, requests, and actions. You will follow Russia as your new nation, you will honor it, you will admire it, and you will serve it. Every single country in Europe will be taken in to the Russian Empire at will. Any attempt shown to resist this new law passed by our greatest Tsar, Ulyanov I, and the oppressor’s or oppressors’ nation will be subject to harsh punishment. The oppressor or oppressors will be executed at first chance. If you, you nation, and its leader do not comply, you will be used as a fatal example. Do not underestimate us. '' ''- The Ulyanov Doctrine of 1745 Notes of musical phrases filled the dry air of the palace. The Palace of Pyotr Alexeyevich Ulyanov I, Tsar of Russia and her citizens. Russia was most proud to have a leader like Ulyanov; they knew him as strong, courageous, proud, and determined to keep Russia on its noble feet, and its posture gallantly correct. Ulyanov, himself, was also much proud of his noble achievements during his rein, which began only four years ago, during the year of 1741. One of his more personal achievements that Russia’s noble Tsar was fond of, was the planning of his gallantly-standing palace, домом Ульяновым, or “The House Ulyanov”. The musical phrases that were sounding from the Tsar's study, where in fact the notes belonging to Johann Sebastian Bach's Prelude and Fugue in D Major. Of course, the Tsar's manor could not be complete unless it tended to his every musical need; a large pipe organ was placed in his study, much to the Tsar's delight. The Tsar's study actually was made up of two sections; the study, and the bedroom. However, one looking at this room for the first time would rarely make that accusation. The study itself was fairly large. The walls were built out of pure tan marble, with various tints of red and brown. There were numerous tables and desks made out of wood, which held frilly candles and occasionally some fine china. Filling up the unneeded gaps of the study, two miniature pianofortes stood proudly; both were wooden, held by three pegs, and covered by extra pieces of wood that narrowed further down, which stood supported by a fine wooden rod. Besides those certain pianofortes, lay the medium-sized pipe organ, which the Tsar sat playing skillfully. The pipe organ consisted of two wooden keyboards, almost identical to the harpsichord. Below the two keyboards also lay the numerous pedals, which also served as a third keyboard. These were often referred to as "manuals". Besides the study, was the bedroom. A magnificent gigantic bed sat right in the middle, making the entire room a wonderful beauty. The Tsar, of course, spent his nights sleeping in this bed, covered by a soft roof supported by three wooden poles. As Ulyanov neared the ending of his piece, a brief knock on the door was heard. Ulyanov didn't stop playing, but said "who is it?" instead. In fact, Ulyanov continued to play while using his voice just as good as he did when he wasn't. Then, a voice replied trough the door. "It is Medvedev, sir," the voice said, quickly adding "I have news on your new order, sir." Without ceasing his playing, the Tsar quickly exclaimed, "come in." The door creaked open, thus sending a mild amount of cold air into the rather warm study. The man who had just arrived at the door, was in fact Ishmael Medvedev, the son of the Tsar, thus making him Tsarevich, or "prince". This young man had to be about twenty-six, and nearing twenty-seven. This was a very clean man. No signs of wearing or age. This man also lacked any facial hair. He appeared to be nervous, too, as his facial expressions showed it to be true. In fact, he had allowed his father to continue playing for about five minutes, until the words, "My Tsar," broke the vocal silence. Ulyanov had stopped playing, and had turned around to face his son. "My Tsar, we must discuss the new doctrine," he stuttered. "Ah, yes," replied Ulyanov. Medvedev's anxiety still remained at a high level. "Well," Ulyanov said. "What is it, my son?" Medvedev could feel the air pressing against him, and the anxiety swelling in his warm heart, which was now rapidly pumping. He moved his lips around to form a few simple letters, but no sound came out. The Tsar studied his presence, which worsened Medvedev's anxiety. But, finally, Medvedev began to speak. "This is absurd," he finally said. His voice was strangely stern, as if he had become determined to prove something. The tension and anxiety had obviously dissolved partially, if not completely. Ulyanov's face looked strangely amused. While getting up from his chair and turning the other way, he said, "I know some of my people are not particularly fond of this new policy, but I assure you and all of Russia that this will change history." Medvedev appeared to be disappointed. "By this 'changing history' you mean Russia being threatened and destroyed by our angered neighbors?" Medvedev replied, not giving up just yet. Ulyanov sighed. "My son, you have yet much to learn. If I could only show you, show the whole of Russia, then you might just understand what good this can bring. After all, it is our beloved Russia, isn't it?" "Yes," Medvedev answered. "That is why I'm determined to convince you to demolish this doctrine and its policy, before we anger all of Europe!" The Tsar still appeared amused. "Ah, that is your concern," he said. "Well, in that case, I can assure you that all of Europe is no threat to our most beloved Russia." Medvedev was getting impatient. He knew the Tsar's wrongdoings just as well as the Tsar himself did. Just as Medvedev was about to speak up, Ulyanov cut him off - "Who the hell do you think you are? You are a human, made under the eyes of The Lord, and you stride in here demanding this be recalled?" Ulyanov's tone had reached vexation. "Son," he said, "I am disappointed." Medvedev let these words sink in, slowly, but surely. Then, regaining his confidence, he spoke again. "I did not 'demand', as you say." he said. "I'm here to help your country, father. I'm here to stop you from making a grave mistake. Do you find that a wrongdoing?" Ulyanov's eyes had calmed down, for they were crowded with burning fire. Turning away from the piano, Ulyanov faced his son. "No," he said, "It's not. What is this news you bring me?" His anxiety returned. Medvedev felt his breathing disintegrate. However, slowly, but surely, Medvedev gathered up his courage, and spoke. "France, Prussia, and Austria have received the doctrine. They are not to happy, my Tsar." Medvedev had been dreading this very moment. However, in Russia, those dreaded times will come and be dealt with. Medvedev waited silently in fear for his father's reaction. Ulyanov tilted his head down slightly, as if thinking of a reaction. "I feared this would happen," he muttered. "Well," continued a nodding Medvedev, "Even worse, their has been a few uprisings." Ulyanov quickly raised his eyebrows, then lowered them. Medvedev knew he had caught his father's attention. "Uprisings," he said, a tone of interest in his voice. "How so?" Ulyanov asked. "Well," Medvedev began, "Few nations' citizens have began to question their leaders' action. Few of them have considered war with Russia. Europe would aid them." Ulyanov didn't look amused. "We have Asia, my son," he said carelessly. "Asia? Correct me if I am wrong, but they are isolated," replied Medvedev, irritated. "Son, I must be honest here," started Ulyanov. "I don't expect most countries to tolerate this. I, in fact, intended for this to happen." Medvedev had a look of profound astonishment on his face as Ulyanov continued. "Of course, you're the only one I can tell this to," he said. To Ishmael, these words had a great and intense impact upon him. He didn't know to say, or even think for that matter. He was completely speechless. His own father, not just the Tsar of Russia, but his own loving father had become a power-hungry fool."What have you done to this country," Medvedev muttered without noticing his own words. As soon as he said them he regretted it. His father looked at him boldly in the eye, fire raging inside them. "What did you say?" spat Ulyanov, his voice angry, and rising in volume. "What have I'' done for ''this country?" he continued, his voice still rising. "I," Ulyanov continued, "have given my people a reason to life. I have given my people this beautiful country! All of Russia they have to enjoy! What right do you have to question my authority?!" His voice had became greatly influenced by anger now, and was walking closer to his son. "You will," he started, a finger extended at his son, "You will respect my authority! Get out! Now!" Scared to face his own father's wrath, Medvedev bolted to and out the wooden door, leaving Ulyanov alone. As he turned back to his organ, he muttered to himself, "I'll give Europe a fortnight to join my empire, or they will fall." 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